Odd
by Goth-Punk88
Summary: [Post DH, Beware of spoilers] Luna Lovegood was odd, she has always been. And, Harry thinks, it was only fitting that 'odd' was the best way to describe his feelings for her. [HarryLuna][Mentions of HG]


The original idea was to write a short drabble about Luna and Harry's feelings for her through his life. The idea was to base it all in the word odd. But at the end, the drabble started to write itself and it became an one-shot, with Harry after the 19-years epilogue. But since I also wanted that drabble I was planning to write, I decided to write both and post them together.

So, the first drabble is pretty much the prologue, and the one-shot is the rest of the story.

And of course, both are based in the word 'Odd', because Luna is odd and I love her for it.

I'm sorry for any grammatical mistakes that I missed. English is not my first language and I still have a few problems with a few things; my beta-reader is away on a trip right now as well, and since I wanted to share this with my fellow H/L shippers, I decided to post it anyway. If you see a mistake, please point it out in a review so I can fix it. Thanks

* * *

**Odd.**

_Part I._

_- -_

Luna Lovegood was odd; if there was something Harry was sure about her, it was just that.

She was odd, as odd as someone could get; from her dirty-blond hair to her protuberant-eyes to her wand behind her ear to her bizarre beliefs—_everything_ in her was odd.

So, Harry thought, it was oddly fitting that his feelings for her were odd as well.

Because really, that was the only way to describe them.

It was odd the way he could stare into her eyes for hours, not feeling unnerved at her habit of staring right through you but glad at the knowledge that she was staring right at his soul; feeling glad that he could stare right at _hers_.

It was odd the way he suddenly started to take notice of the simplest, of the smallest of details in her; he had noticed she had an habit of blinking every two-minutes, instead of the normal every few seconds. He had also noticed that she didn't like her butterbear warm, but somewhat cold; and that her hair was curlier beside her right ear.

It was odd how he found himself entranced by her more often than not; she could be talking about the most bizarre things, about the most impossible of existences, and still he would be there, listening intently to each and every word she said—it was something in her voice, in the way her eyes brightened with happiness and excitement whenever she discussed her father's ideas.

Odd, was also the way he could open up to her with everything, even with things he wouldn't even dream of saying to Ginny—he tried, _really_ tried; but it was just too hard, impossible even.

It was also odd, the way he felt whenever she was around; he felt lighter, fuller, happier—it was like her mere presence reminded him of the fact that there were wonderful things around him, things that he couldn't see but that were there anyway; things that weren't tangible but somehow you could feel them all the same.

The way he started to yearn for her, as the years passed, was extremely odd as well—never, _ever_ did he even dare to dream he would be yearning for her presence as badly as he does now, nineteen years after he first met her. Never did he think that he would miss her so badly whenever she left onto one of her bizarre searches.

It was also odd, the way his eyes kept traveling towards her across the table; and even more odd was the way his hold on Ginny's hand weakened with each exchanged look.

It was odd the way he sometimes would give up Ginny's company in order to go to visit her at her job, in order to see her and feel her by his side—it was odd the way he never missed Ginny's company as much as he missed Luna's when he wasn't with her.

It was odd the way his heart started to beat faster whenever he thought of her, and his mind started to feel giddy whenever her hand briefly brushed against his… It was odd he didn't feel that way whenever Ginny was the one in his mind.

It was odd that it had taken him twenty years to realize that his feelings for Luna were more than just friendship. To realize that there was something there—something quite odd, quite wrong, but wonderfully _right_ and _great_; something he just _couldn't_ give up, no matter how much he tried to convince himself to.

But at the end, the oddest thing Harry knew, was how he stayed with Ginny, even though he had fallen for her best friend a long time ago.

- -

* * *

**_Part II_**

- -

Luna Lovegood was odd.

She had always been, Harry knew.

Everything in her, from her dirty-blonde hair; to her misty-protuberant eyes, to her radish-earrings, to her undying habit of proclaiming her beliefs of the most random things.

Luna was odd; a kind-of odd that wasn't bad, or unnerving, or scary—well, it _was_ scary sometimes—but just _odd_.

And—Harry guessed—it was just fitting that 'odd' was the best way to describe the way he felt about her.

- -

After his short talk with her on that bench, he didn't see her again for a few days.

They met again in the Weasley's house, for Fred's funeral. She wasn't wearing dark or black robes like everyone else, but bright, blue ones; her long hair somewhat cleaner, her arms holding fresh flowers.

"Blue means hope" She had answered his unasked question, catching him staring at her from the corner of his eyes without taking her eyes off Fred's coffin. "It just didn't seem right to come here dressed in black—black is depressing, you know—whenever I think about Fred I can only think about bright colors. I don't think he would have liked to see al of you dressed in black"

He didn't give her words that much thought; He had known she was right since the moment she opened her mouth. George seemed to think so as well, because he gave her a smile from the other side of the place.

He had never really questioned his feelings for Luna back then; she was his friend—a really loyal one, nonetheless. And he owed a lot to her, appreciated her words and her company, felt at ease around her.

But she was just that, a _friend—_A very special one of course. But still, nothing more, nothing less.

But—he knows _now­_—if he had thought about it back then, _really_ thought about it; he would have realized it was odd anyway.

- -

He married Ginny, and he was really happy—for a while.

He had never questioned himself his feelings for her, never wondered just why it wasn't easy to open up to her and tell her the things he told Ron or Hermione. He never wondered why—deep down—it didn't feel quite _right_.

He never wondered since _when_ it stopped feeling right—maybe it never did.

His feelings for Ginny were something that simply _was_. Just like his friendship with Luna.

Or at least, that's what he used to think.

He meet Luna again, after two years of not seeing her, of hearing about her merely thanks to the letters she sometimes send to Ginny and Hermione; and when he did, something _changed_—She was still the same old Luna. Her hair was cleaner now, and somewhat shorter. Her eyes were just as protuberant, but they were wiser. Her radish-earrings were replaced by moon-shaped ones, and her figure was fuller, taller—But she was the same old Luna. Still believing in seemingly impossible things, still laughing loudly at Ron's jokes, still wearing her wand behind her ear.

Still the same odd Luna he had known all those years ago; and he didn't quite get just why his stomach seemed to dance whenever he looked at her.

- -

With the pass of time, he started to understand.

He was in denial, at first.

He denied—to himself, of course, because no one else knew about it—that he felt kinda empty whenever he was alone with Ginny and Luna wasn't visiting them. That opening up to Ginny was harder—and sometimes, downright impossible—while opening up to Luna was something that he just couldn't help doing. He denied with all his might that Ginny's kisses didn't make him feel the same way that Luna's hand brushing against his own did; he denied that Ginny's laugh didn't make his heart jump the way Luna's did.

He denied it all, because he just couldn't accept that things were changing. He denied it all, because he couldn't accept that maybe—just _maybe_—he had been wrong all along.

He denied it all, because what he was feeling—what he _felt_ when he was with Luna wasn't something _new_.

He had always felt it, back when they used to go to Hogwarts. He had always felt at ease at her presence, he had always felt right whenever she was around, he had always had an easy time opening up to her, he had always enjoyed her presence. He always had.

He refused to accept the implications that those feelings had. He refused to accept the fact that maybe he had been blind all along—maybe blinded by Ginny's ferocious beauty, maybe by his own stupidity—and that he had made the wrong choice, without even knowing.

He refused to acknowledge that.

But at the end, he just _had_ to.

- -

He couldn't deny it anymore when his lips meet Luna's.

It had been unexpected, and random, and he never ever thought he would dare to do such a thing—but when he saw her smiling, an edition of the Quibbler securely held in her arms, a lock of blonde hair falling gracefully in her face; he just couldn't help it. He couldn't help himself. He gave in into those feelings that he had been trying to deny but hadn't quite managed to; all those feelings he didn't knew he had when he was a teen, but discovered he did when he became a man. All those feelings that were starting to kill him from the inside out, because if he didn't tell her—tell her _now_—he would just explode.

And it had been wonderful, and magic, and everything he never imagined it could be and it blew his mind away and it consumed him, totally, _completely_. And as he stayed there, his lips softly rocking against her own, his hands finding a place around her waist while the Quibbler she was holding fell to the floor—there just wasn't left a single space inside of him where he could save his doubts, his fear, his deny.

He was in love with Luna Lovegood; and it was odd, and it was unexpected, and it was wrong, and it was forbidden, and it was a lot of things—but for Harry, it just felt _right_.

- -

He asked Ginny for a divorce that same afternoon.

She hadn't cried even though he knew she wanted to, but he had seen the questions in her eyes—'_Just what do you think you're doing?, You're old, Harry. You're grown up already, you're almost forty, for God's sake! It's too late to be playing boyfriend with Luna, it's stupid and idiotic and wrong!_'—but he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to.

He could see it all too clearly now.

It had always been there, laying under the surface—those feelings, the feelings he had for Luna had always been inside him. They had taken twenty-three years to wake, but now that they had they wouldn't fall asleep again. He didn't want them to.

Because for the first time in more years than he could count, he felt _right_. And that feeling, Harry knew, was something that he just _couldn't_ give up.

And he repeated those words to himself over and over again as he faced his kids. Lily was crying, Albus was sulking, but James's expression remained oddly blank. And as he tried to explain to them, as he tried to give them a reason of why he was leaving her mom after so many years for Aunt Luna, James finally spoke.

"_It's alright, Dad_" He said, with a seriousness Harry had never seen him use before; "_It's alright. I would never forgive you if you kept pretending that things were like they used to be with mum, I would never forgive you if you played with her heart. But it's alright that you're being honest with us, Dad. And Aunt Luna is alright too. I don't hate you or anything_"

And those words, having his son's support, his son's acceptance, gave him the strength to go on with what he needed to do.

- -

He held Luna's hand gently with his own, his fingers carefully and slowly entwining with hers, his shoulder softly brushing against her own.

"Aren't you mad at me?" He dared finally to ask, his eyes still focused on the sky, refusing to meet her own.

"Why should I be?" She inquired softly, if somewhat curiously; and even though he couldn't see her—_refused_ to, actually—he still could imagine her arching up her slim eyebrow.

"Because I… I took so _long_. We could have been together, years ago, if it hadn't been because I was an ass who--"

"It's quite alright, Harry" She had said, surprising him and managing to make him finally turn towards her, his green eyes shining with confusion; but she ignored him, and went on, "I'm not mad at you; you shouldn't be mad at yourself, either. I wasn't sad when you married Ginny—at little disappointed maybe, but not sad. You deserved some happiness, and I knew Ginny would be able to give you that. She also gave you three wonderful children, and wonderful memories. Do you really think you could have given up on them, by falling for me all those years ago?"

He hadn't thought of that. And as he did, he realized just how true her words were—well, they _always_ were. He should be used to it by now.

"No" He said, and the faces of his children were shining brightly in his mind, "Not really·"

That was exactly what Luna had wanted to hear, he realized, as she turned towards him and gave him that odd but beautiful smile of hers, her protuberant eyes shining brightly thanks to the rays of the moon above them. "That's what I thought"

- -

"You see, Harry, things happen only when they have to. We were meant to be together, it was written in the _stars_, but we weren't supposed to be together since the start—you had too many things to feel, to see, to _learn_; and I still had too many things to _live_. But never in my mind, did I doubt that we would be together at the end; because that was the feeling I had since the moment I met you"

She was odd, that Luna.

She said things that didn't made quite sense; her words always having a hidden meaning in them, her eyes always seeing right through the lies and into their souls. Her wisdom hidden behind the nonsense she liked to proclaim; her earrings always having bizarre and outrageous shapes—_odd_, no doubt.

But he had always been quite odd himself, and Harry found it to be just fitting that his feelings for her were so odd as well.

Because—Harry knew—true happiness comes only from the oddest and most unexpected places, and he was just glad he had finally found his.

- -

* * *

So That was it. I wanted to--not exactly fix that crapilogue JK gave us--but to write about Harry's future after that, to show that HarryLuna _can_ still work, because sometimes love takes a lifetime to wake but when it does, it doesn't fall asleep again. And to me, Luna _is_ the girl for Harry.

I hope you guys liked it, and that there weren't that many mistakes. Please don't forget to leave a review, I'm really interested in reading your opinions to the DH's epilogue and this.

Thanks for reading!


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